


Of Mighty Flame

by BeautifulTendencies



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulTendencies/pseuds/BeautifulTendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo admits to himself he's in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mighty Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck it.

He’s like his mother, you know. All the people on all the planets we visit, the women his father sets him up with,

‘You’re so much like your father!’ 

‘You look just like him’

‘Your father was a fine man, and I see that he passed on his fine qualities to you’

They don’t understand. Hux’s father was ice, cold and unmoving, smooth and jagged, sharp and disciplined.

They don’t know his mother, brilliant flame, twisting and burning and genius.

He’s a cross between the two of them, you see. Outside he is a carbon copy of his father, still, disciplined, emotionless, but inside burns a fire that could only have come from his mother. It eats him from the inside out, the intense heat of his anger melting the icy shell.

Occasionally he explodes, like the bomb he is. Not all of the ship’s destruction comes from me. I let them think it does, though.

We’re not really so at odds with one another as they all assume we are.

I know him too well.

If you completely understand someone, know everything about them, it’s impossible to do anything but love them.

I know the battle of messy emotions that roil and splatter against his insides as his face remains a mask of calm. I know the way he taps a finger against the other fist behind his back when he’s too impatient to do nothing but too proud to pace. I know the way he screams and rages behind closed doors. I know he cries in his sleep. I know how he does his hair in the morning, I know how he shines his boots, I know how he likes his coffee, I know, I know, I know.

I understand. And so I love.

It is disgusting, this feeling inside me, so tender and weak. I hate it. I hate that I love, I hate this love. But I cannot deny I love him. I see everything he is, and I love all of it.

We are flip sides of the same coin, filled with contradiction and contempt.


End file.
